


Gossamer Diplomacy

by whisperingelf



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Consensual, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingelf/pseuds/whisperingelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a reason why Orlais is infamous for its hedonism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossamer Diplomacy

Queen Anora Theirin fanned herself impatiently in the corner of the gilded gondola cabin. The novelty of floating on the Miroir de la Mère in Val Royeaux was beginning to wear off, and she felt as though she were melting in her damask and suede gown. For the Orlesian spring she had not come prepared, and the natives made sure they had noticed by initially treating the young queen with much derision. Well, more than she suspected a Fereldan royal would normally receive. Here, fashion was everything, and she’d have to give the Orlesian ambassador a stern talking-to once she returned home to her husband and kingdom.

By comparison her companion for the morning, Empress Celene, stunned in an aquamarine robe à la polonaise that was scattered with little fish made of Serpentstone beads to celebrate the occasion of their visit to the harbor. And because just one of those fish could feed a whole family for at least a week, Anora couldn’t help but resent her for it. Her informants in Ferelden had told her that an assassination attempt had left the Empress with copious scarring on her legs, but all of her attempts at catching a glimpse had been fruitless. Maybe that was why this season's spring fashions were so conservative. Appearances and diplomatic duties aside, they did however find a few things in common. But as pleasantly as their conversation had gone this whole excursion, the queen was still too wary of the infamous Orlesian politicking to really enjoy any of it. But Cailan was depending on her to bolster Ferelden's reputation within the country and foster a personal relationship with its ruler... So persevere she must.

"-the most promising new painter to set up a studio." Celene breezed, reaching for one of the tiny cakes on a tray by her elbow. Upon first seeing them, Anora had thought them made of the birdseed. Though the sun wasn't even at its highest the day already sweltered, the whisper of wind coming through the open window of their gilded gondola offering no reprieve. Before a drop of sweat could creep down from her hairline Anora wiped it away by pretending to fix her hair. She already had her response ready, but my making Celene wait those few milliseconds she was establishing them both as equals.

"How lovely. To have the skill and attention to detail that Ander art is known for, yet abide by Orlesian style."

“Indeed. She is slated to teach alongside Madame Remault upon the opening of the University’s new wing for the arts.”

There was a pregnant pause. Neither chess player wanted to make the second move, lest they appear too bold. Just then, the gondola gave a gentle dip as the empress' handmaiden, Briana or something, climbed down from where she had been directing the soldiers to row and padded into the lavish space. Having an elf as your closest confidante Anora understood, as they couldn’t hope to move much past that station and therefore were much less likely to stab you in the back.

Even the servants like this elven woman wore a mask. And it was seriously unnerving. "The Reverend Mother's service begins at noon, mistress." She informed, her voice perfectly level. "Do you wish for the rowers to take your Radiance and her majesty back to the shores?" Before waiting for an answer she plucked one of the cakes from the tray and ate it right there, crumbs now dotting her sumptuous lips. Celene gave the slightest of nods, her eyes burning with secret humor behind their mask of Lazurite. Appearing amused as well, the elf clasped her hands with almost mock obedience and then sauntered back to the ladder.

Unsure what she had just witnessed, Anora decided to ignore it for now and get back to painstaking conversation with the Empress, who was quick to fill the silence this time. "The scars on the Grand Cathedral from the great dragon's attack I had left unmended." There was an unmistakable hint of pride in the Empress’ voice. "Our faith is glorious, resilient. And why should the seat of it not celebrate that?"

* * *

 

They made their way to the cathedral in a whirlwind of ceremony.

Even though Val Royeaux was the most opulent city in Thedas there was no way for it to avoid the city smells: Sweat, rotten vegetables, excrement and now blood as an elven man was suddenly beaten over the head with fragment of the crate he had dropped and broken. That was another thing Anora disliked about Orlais; the attitude towards elves that they were a completely different and inferior species. Briana, who had to walk behind their procession of carriages, appeared to be pretty well-treated, but Anora wouldn't be surprised if she were paid in table scraps and bruises. For the only thing she knew about the Celene under that mask was her cruelty. Having her own family members assassinated to ascend the throne... even with her own ambition Anora would never even consider going so far. Her father she refused to think of now, though, when she had gone so long without seeing him in Gwaren. When there were so many interesting sights to soak in here. The crowd was made to part for the royal carriage and it's accompanying guards on horseback, and through the the chevaliers Anora could see every peasant and noble alike bowing as if her company were the Maker bursting forth from the clouds. Say anything about Orlais, and say that it's excessive. If it had been Cailan visiting, he would have asked to have his Marbaris in the parade.

Another stiff conversation with Celene later they arrived at the Grand Cathedral. So great in size and beauty was the complex that Anora couldn't help but feel breathless as she walked through its hallowed front doors. The small party of Celene, Anora, the elf from before, a few chattering nobles who were lucky enough to be invited and a handful of the queen's guard keeping a respectful distance were met by a Sister who provided a groveling salutation. Her patience for frivolity was at an end, and while pretending to listen to the whiny nobles she instead took in the interior’s sacred artwork. Too dazzled by Hessarian and the weeping ghouls of Tevinter was she was to notice Celene and the elf slip away from the group.

When they arrived to the main chamber at last, it didn’t seem like she would have time to contemplate the artwork either as the Reverend Mother was down from her pulpit and greeting each important member of her flock. Way over this, after a surreptitious glance over her shoulder he Ferelden queen decided to split. As genuinely interested in the service as she was, Cailan had asked her to seek out a particular mural. Smirking at the possibility of finding a Marbari mural in an Orlesian chantry she set off to find the vestry, where legend said it could be found.

The queen didn’t get far before catching something that made her stop dead. The Empress and her handmaiden were partially obscured by a wooden screen and a cluster of statues, but even without the full picture Anora was no idiot. The two women were a myriad of colours from the light of the stained-glass window, intertwined on the floor. Skirts hitched aside they sat upright, the elf riding Celene's thigh as her hands finished unclasping the back of her mistress’ dress. Celene let out another muffled laugh as she continued to do whatever she was doing, which appeared to be untying the elf's stomacher with only her teeth and lips. Her mask lay discarded and glittering on a nearby pew, and most of the thick white powder that had caked her face was now smeared all over her Briala’s. Anora was rooted to the spot with shock and more powerfully, embarrassment, unsure of what to do. By her Ferelden sensibilities she was not disgusted by them being two women, and in her homeland it was common enough to have trysts with servants. But by the Maker, in a Chantry!

Celene pulled her arms out of the heavily embroidered sleeves and let Briala do the rest. The elf peeled down the top of the dress before sliding her slender elven fingers down the layer that lay closest to the Empress’ skin. Watching through the wooden scrollwork, transfixed, Anora even felt the smallest stirring of excitement tingle through her. Regretfully, as….interesting as it would be to stay and watch, she knew that as The Foreign Guest she was by default the center of attention. And that she would soon be missed. Releasing the fabric of her dress that she had unknowingly balled up in her fists Anora made a lurch in the general direction of which she had come. In her haste to return before being missed, however, she didn't avoid the line of statues and ended up bumping some ancient priestess. The relic crashed to the taking a huge chunk out of the woman's head and face.

A startled shriek came from where the two women were, along with the hiss of blade being drawn. Briala sounded furious. “I won’t let them, Celene!” Her father may have been right after all in his belief that while there was times for words, sometimes only action would suffice. And it was action that Anora took now. The Fereldan queen hitched up her skirt and pelted down the dusty hall, only daring to turn around once she had reached the end of it. Where the fallen statue lay stood Briala, feet bare and her dress sagging. In her hand was sleek knife of Silverite, hanging limply by her side. She may have shed the indigo mask from before, but her face was carved with such a look of alarm that it still could have been one.

* * *

 

Anora did not see the Empress for the rest of the evening, who had ‘suddenly taken ill’. That also meant no Briala, either. She shared her meal with the unbelievably rude Grand Duke Gaspard, and did so well in fending off his barbs that she even managed to elicit smiles from the other masked guests. Coming off the high of that encounter she retired to her chambers alone, after checking in with the small contingent of guards she had brought with her. She was thinking about what to put in her letter to Cailan when a knock sounded on her door. It was one of Celene’s own personal guards, who apologized for the hour but claimed that the Empress had called her to 'Le Salon de Papillon'. Reassured by the fact that her own force would be checking on her throughout the night and therefore would notice if she was, say, silenced, the queen reluctantly did as he said.

Le Salon de Papillon turned out to be in the Empress’ private apartments, into which the guardsman did not follow. Alone in the dark, Anora numbly swallowed her growing uneasiness. Squaring her shoulders and pressing the hard ceramic knife that was sewn into her sleeve she cautiously made her way through the gilt-spangled hall until she was in a room wallpapered with scenes of spring. The butterflies actually moved, flitting from petal to petal. It was pretty enough, but to display so openly what was clearly the work of mages.... just another reminder of the foreign-ness of this place. Because that chamber was empty as well, the queen continued through the only open doorway, which turned out to be precisely what Celene wanted.

Fragments of a crystal goblet glittered on the marble floors like dew, though not as bright as the amethysts and sapphires that encrusted the massive bed. A massive bed upon which the empress was draped, in the original state that the Maker had made her.

Her face turning as red as the wine she had imbibed for dinner Anora's apprehension gave way to bewilderment. With that pose as graceful as a sculpture there was no question that the Empress wanted her to join, and more importantly, Celene's body was not only unscathed but possessive of a certain appeal...  

The mound of pillows rustled, and then a muffled voice broke the silence. The person who had been underneath it raised their head, the mass of chocolate curls giving her away even in this light as the elven servant from before. A black silk scarf was tied around her eyes by a golden cord.

"You really did invite her then, Celene?" There was a touch of annoyance in her voice. Still maintaining her pose the Empress, in a playful attempt to silence her, shoved a hand in the general direction of Briala's face, which the elf responded to by taking the fingers into her mouth and sucking on them.

Celene finally addressed her guest. "Queen Anora of Ferelden, secluded from our world of debauchery like an exquisite rose in a cloche a glass." She smirked. "Ever a mystery that makes my heart swoon…"

Anora spluttered. She made a low, gurgling sound. Decades of tutelage under the finest political minds in Ferelden still couldn't have prepared her for this. Nor could she have expected of herself to actually consider... Blame her parents for not squashing her wild streak. Blame Cailan for his unreliability in satisfying her too. Brushing away the slightest anxieties that occurred to her about this being some kind of trap, some kind of scheme to catch her being unfaithful, the queen found herself taking careful steps towards where the two others waited. It was just a chance to become more farmiliar with the world's most powerful woman, she told herself. Yes. When among the Alamarri, do as the Alamarri do. 

The Empress, despite having been dressed by servants for all of her life, made quick work of Anora’s gown. Before the queen knew it she was perching on the side of the bed, purely naked, not quite ready to exactly get down and...lounge...with Celene, who appeared to be a bit disappointed with by the other’s lack of enthusiasm. She moved to place a hand on Anora’s shoulder and then seemed to think better of it.

“You don’t have to, Anora. We do not wish to force anything upon you.” The queen closed her eyes for a moment to focus on the churning of her stomach, and then after identifying it as only nerves instead of her conscience acting up she shook her head. It just..felt strange to be rushing into sexual activity so quickly. And thrilling. And as for Cailan, it’s not like any heirs could come from this so what was the harm? It was then that she actually resolved to tell him, and then possibly even re-enact what she could. So to Celene’s question she responded by roughly kissing her, their blond eyelashes tickling each other’s faces . The Empress made a sort of growl and deepened the kiss, encouraged by the hardening of Anora’s nipples. Briala emerged from her lair of pillows as equally naked as the other two, and though her body was of a completely different shape she was able to fit herself around Anora’s back quite nicely. The queen’s breasts were small enough to cup in each of the elf’s hand, so she did just that while humming what sounded like a song that was played for Summerday. 

With Cailan her intimacy had always been good, as the king was careful if a little bit clumsy. Then the pressure to produce an heir had cheapened the act, Anora felt, and for the past many times she had simply stared up at the ceiling and prayed to the Maker that it would work this time. There were no strings attached to this Orleisan foolery, though, so the queen decided that she might as well let these two women seduce her.

The Orlesians suddenly switched tasks,though Celene kept her hand right where it was on the highest part of Briala’s inner thigh. The empress spoke to her lover through a wicked smile. "How about-" The elf interrupted. "-starting the Ferelden off with something easy." Her breath tickled on Anora’s shoulder as she moved away and lowered the queen onto the pillows. Breasts giving a slight bounce Briala settled between her legs with no hesitation. Even sitting upright like that Anora could see why some humans… were specifically inclined towards her race. Delicate bones and the occasional plane of lean muscle under cinnamon coloured skin, those glowing eyes that she had always found unsettling now sultry in the dark of the room. Briala caught Anora examining her, the way her gaze lingered curiously over the hairlessness of her sacral region.

The elf made an odd face. "It's the same as our men not having any beards." She grumbled, her features suddenly twitching and a squeak of pleasure leaving her throat as Celene seized her and began to work at the area in question. Playfully shoving her off, Briala got back to her position with Anora. The two seemed to be in some sort of agreement to put her first. But if this woman didn't like her, Anora wasn't exactly sure that she wanted her all over her body. However it was too late, as Briala had already lowered her head to knead the queen's nipple with her berry-coloured tongue. Her fingers began to swirl in slow circles around Anora's clitoris, bringing about a sensation she had never felt before. well, it was different when someone else was doing it. Celene gave an excited laugh as she saw Anora's heels begin to push back and forth upon the bed. Saw her eyes widen at the intensity of pleasure her ladylove could deliver.

As if just remembering something she slipped off of the bed and padded off somewhere. Too busy with trying to keep her huffs and gasps for air within a ladylike range the young queen only noticed Celene's return when she was nearly finished with tying on a strange sort of harness device. It was something she had never seen before, but from the carved snowfleur tusk that protruded from it in a phallic manner could she guess it's purpose. Briala initially gave no notice to Celene's return, and with fascination Anora watched her expression change from smug satisfaction to that of giddiness as the Empress smoothly began to open her from behind. Celene stopped for a moment, and then resumed after giving a the elf a gentle slap on her rear.

"I knew this would be great fun. " The Empress was just getting started and picked up the pace with Briala, who in response increased the intensity of her torture upon Anora. A trail of spit was now smeared from the elf's insisting mouth upon her collar bone all the way to the ticklish undersides of her breast. Briala then began to bite her, simultaneously pushing a finger between Anora’s tender folds and inside of her. Celene reached around from where she was now kissing, the spot where she had inserted the object, to stroke Anora’s leg. The caresses of hands that did no hard labor, the press of bodies that were lean from only the the country’s finest foods, sweet lavender perfume in their hair… though in the flesh Anora was wrought with warmth and base desire, her heart could have been ice. Just as Briala’s vocalizations grew harsher the queen began to shiver, sure that she would reach a peak soon.

Celene appeared to take notice of this and after smoothly detaching the tusk she crawled over to her guest, leaving Briala to her own ministrations. Over to Anora she clambered, burying her face between those feebly twitching legs. Anora only groaned, her concern about being heard long-forgotten. Celene teased her, slowing down long licks when the other wanted her to speed up. Feeling weak with the roiling of arousal the queen could only put her hand up on the other’s shoulder and whisper her request. "F-faster. Please!" The Empress had her completely.

“Do you swear on your mother country that this stays between us?” The command in her voice was unmistakable, completely free of the syrupy tones she had spoken in while dredged in desire. Briala let out a ragged chuckle, the tusk hanging loosely from her hand as she stopped her for a moment.

“Ce...lene, she can tell her husband.” She gave the helpless queen a nefarious glance. “And good...a-ah...bacchanalia never hurt both our international relations, maybe he could…” Anora couldn't stand the built-up pressure any longer. She no longer cared how desperate she sounded when she called out to Celene again. “I swear, I swear it.” Her hands slipped from the woman’s shoulder and down to her own clit, beginning to rub it vigorously. But both women pounced on her nearly at once, each taking one of her hands.

“No no.” Briala chastised, shaking her head. But whatever plans she had for Anora were dashed once the Empress seized her by the pointed ear and forced their lips together. Briala held her tightly, as if for dear life, her nails digging into the other woman’s back. Stung by rejection the queen was left to climb to considerably-lower heights alone, to the sight Celene tossing back her head in a shower of golden hair and clinging to her elvhen lover, their hips clacking and knocking together as they both came. Three shrieks later they were all quiet and still, the warmth of the other two still entwined keeping Anora from getting cold where she lay, alone.

Extricating herself from  sweaty heap of nakedness on the lavish bed she felt her bliss rapidly subside, to be replaced with an inkling of betrayal. She been used, fucked, and then left out in the cold? Her body was still somewhat slicK from the sweaty press of three women and who knows what from who knows who, and though the night itself was warm goosebumps appeared all over her flesh. Briala and Celene were still sandwiched together, breasts and bodies rising and falling against each other as they murmured sweet nothings. After what they had just gone through,  Anora supposed that using the Empress' bath would not be overstepping her bounds. Besides, she had heard once that there was an Andraste carved to be standing in the middle of the tub, and she wanted to check and see if at least that were true.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if it's not perfect it's just been sitting in my docs for a few weeks and I got tired of it.


End file.
